


when worlds collide

by emotionalpanda



Category: Dead To Me (TV), Grace and Frankie (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/F, Fluff, Humor, more tags to come I guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26863780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emotionalpanda/pseuds/emotionalpanda
Summary: Dead To Me / Grace and Frankie crossover oneshots because I need to see these gals cross pathsassume every chapter is a separate story unless stated otherwise
Relationships: Frankie Bergstein/Grace Hanson, Judy Hale/Jen Harding
Comments: 48
Kudos: 76





	1. grocery store gays

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to bethchildz for the beta and for telling me to follow through with this concept! 
> 
> in this one, grace and frankie and jen and judy meet at a grocery store

They’re at the grocery store, again, because Judy had said they were out of bay leaves and apparently Jen has to be present at the grocery store to help Judy consider the ethical differences between the brand manufacturers. 

“I mean, these bay leaves are top quality, like full on chef’s kiss, but I read an article about CEOs who underpay their employees and one CEO in the list was totally this CEO’s friend, so…”

Jen sighs, “Judy. Just pick a brand. We can repent about it later, if you think we need to. We’ll sing a Jesus-y song with Henry, or dance a little jig so we don’t get fucking struck by lightning or whatever.” 

Judy pouts, then tosses a container of top quality bay leaves in their cart. 

They wander into the refrigerated aisle. Henry’s Holy Harmonies recital is coming up and his favorite meal is Judy’s homemade pizza. She always makes a smiley face using whatever toppings he wants that day and it’s a great way to get him to eat his veggies. 

Jen picks up a bag of mixed italian cheeses in one hand and a bag of plain mozzarella in the other. She raises her eyebrows at Judy, before grabbing a bag of mild cheddar and attempting to juggle the bags. 

“Oh, has Mommy joined the circus?” Judy snorts, wheeling the cart over to Jen.

The bags of cheese are on the floor (proof that Jen still has work to do in the juggling department). 

“Mommy has not joined the circus. Mommy just wanted you to laugh. Mommy’s going to stop calling herself Mommy now.” 

Judy picks up the three bags of cheese and drops them in the cart. 

“All three? Do we need that much cheese for the pizza?” Jen asks.

“What? It’s layered.”

* * *

Grace has had a long day. They’re at some grocery store in Laguna Beach because Frankie had convinced her to go on a girls weekend an hour away from their beach house for some odd reason. She tries to remember how she ended up here. Frankie has a way of getting her to agree to things. She doesn’t know how Frankie does it, but Frankie’s childlike wonder about the world probably has something to do with it. It’s easy to agree to things when they make Frankie smile.

_“We’re growing older, Grace. We need to see different parts of California. There could be different trees there, different spiders. They need our friendship too!”_

_“The spiders here are enough for me. I don’t want to see any more spiders. Eight legs is too many legs.”_

_“Every leg is full of knowledge. We have a lot to learn from them. You better pull out your iPod ...IPud...IPad! And start taking notes.”_

Luckily, they haven’t run into any spiders in the organic grocery store, though Frankie had leaned in close to the stacks of bananas, claiming that, “Sometimes spiders use the banana stacks as an AirBNB sort of deal.” 

They’ve moved on to the dairy aisle, or semi-dairy aisle. Grace has never seen this many brands of oat milk in one store. It’s almost impressive. 

Frankie’s gone off to investigate the tofurkey, giving Grace a few moments of peace. Grace picks up two containers of Noosa yogurt and brings them up to eye level to examine the fruit filling to yogurt ratio. 

She feels an elbow nudging her arm. Frankie’s back and there are no fake meat products in her hands. She must’ve gotten distracted. 

“What now? Don’t tell me you found a spider in the vegan meats department.”

“Sadly, no. But I ran into a woman and her wife in the frozen waffles section. The smiley one complimented my rose quartz necklace. I think we could be friends with them, Grace. The wife reminded me of a particularly frowny blonde, whose name may or may not rhyme with Lace Lanson.” 

“Very subtle, Frankie. I would never be named after a fabric.” 

Frankie frowns at Grace, “Please, Grace! When the universe speaks, we have to listen to her. She tells us things for a reason!” 

“Fine. But if the universe is wrong, don’t cry when I say I told you so.” 

* * *

“Who was that lady? And why were you talking about rocks?” Jen asks. 

Some old woman had spoken to them as if they were her best friends. Jen really doesn’t understand people these days. _If you want to socialize, go to a fucking bar._

“Not just rocks, crystals.” 

“So rocks that are superheroes with magic powers. Got it. Captain Marvel of pebbles. Sure.” 

Judy picks up a box of frozen French toast sticks to read the ingredients. She frowns at the endless list of chemicals. 

Jen pokes her, “Is that hippie dippie bitch back to discuss the moon cycle? That’s her, right?” She tilts her head in the direction of the woman. 

“Yep! Aw, look, Jen. We made a friend! We need more of those.” 

Jen watches as an older blonde woman, wearing what looks to be an expensive cardigan, joins their _new friend._

Jen sees that the two women are holding hands and the crystal enthusiast is wearing a big pin that says “Love wins!”

“Oh, they look gay.” 

“Jen!” 

“What? They totally do. That one looks like she makes her own jam out of foraged wine berries, and the other one looks like she holds fundraisers for gay charities on her yacht.” 

“Yachts are really bad for the environment, the carbon footprint of one yacht alone…”

Jen nudges Judy, then plasters on a fake smile. She whispers through gritted teeth, “I’m sure _you’re causing climate change!_ is as good as any hello.” 

Jen shifts into a louder voice to address the women, “Hello! So nice to meet you.”

The older blonde shakes Jen’s hand with a firm, business meeting type grip. Jen nods, impressed. 

“I’m Grace,” the woman points to herself, “and this is Frankie.” 

“I love your hair! Are those highlights?” Judy asks.

Frankie chimes in, “Highlights and extensions. Gotta love our beauty queen.” Frankie looks at Grace with awe. 

_They’ve gotta be fucking_ , Jen thinks.

Judy smiles at the pair as if they’re celebrities and she’s a kid waiting for an autograph.

“You two make a lovely couple,” Judy says.

Grace blinks, face frozen. 

Frankie answers, “Thank you.” She eyes Jen and Judy, then adds, “So do you two! Sorry for eavesdropping, but did I overhear you say you two had a son? Isn’t technology amazing?” 

Jen makes a choking sound, which Judy ignores.

Judy beams, “Two actually! We’re so proud of them! You know, if you’re in town and interested in Christian show choir groups, our son has a solo in one tomorrow night. Tickets are free!” 

“Judy,” Jen warns. 

“Oh, how lovely! Grace just _loves_ Christian show choir groups. Isn’t that right?” Frankie stares at Grace until she answers.

“Sure,” Grace responds, half heartedly.

“Let me just find my phone and you can plug in the details or type it into The Google for me… Oh hell, where did my phone go? Grace?” 

Frankie starts patting herself and going through every pocket in her multi-pocket outfit. She shifts through the pile of groceries in the cart, quickly growing frantic. 

“Did you check your bra?” 

“I’m not wearing one,” Frankie answers, as if there’s a silent _duh!_ at the end of the sentence.

Grace finds it in the cart, “It was under the goat cheese.” 

“Oh, we also got goat cheese! It’s so versatile, you’ll have to send me your favorite recipes,” Judy says.

Frankie hands Judy her phone to exchange contact information. 

“You know, I raised a goat once. Her name was Petunia. She ran away to find other pastures…” Frankie gasps, “Maybe this is Petunia’s cheese!” 

Jen and Grace make eye contact and roll their eyes at the same time. They both shake their heads with a small smile. Maybe they have something in common. 

Once the phone numbers have been exchanged, the pairs go their separate ways. Judy and Jen head towards the fresh baked brioche, while Grace and Frankie search for the cereal aisle. 

* * *

“You said I was your wife? Really, Frankie?” Grace asks, gripping the handle of the shopping cart tighter than usual. 

“Oh, Grace, would that really be such a bad thing?” 

Frankie leans her head on Grace’s shoulder, then reaches for a box of chocolate flavored Cheerios. 

Grace turns towards Frankie and something inside her feels warm, despite the frigid air conditioning of the store. 

Grace smiles, “No, it wouldn’t be so bad.”

* * *

Jen picks up a loaf of banana bread, before clearing her throat. 

“Did I miss something? Did you propose to me? Was I just too fucking stupid to realize it?” Jen asks, a little frustrated. 

“No, I didn’t. And you’re not stupid. You’re smarter than anyone I know.” 

“So… why did you say we were married?”

Judy shrugs and smiles a smile that makes Jen feel like melted ice cream on hot pavement. 

“I mean… I already wear a lot of rings. What’s one more?”


	2. sand and understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> our gals are neighbors in La Jolla, Jen and Frankie bond

It’s been a few months into their move to La Jolla and Jen is still not used to the neighbors. For a secluded beach community, the neighbors have no concept of privacy. Since the first day Jen and Judy moved into the new house, this one woman has been knocking at their door incessantly, always with a new question or an idea. Judy likes her; the two share an interest in flowy clothing and paint stains. Jen wants to be annoyed, she really does, but it’s hard to be annoyed at someone who brings a smile to Judy’s face. 

“Judy? It’s Frankie!” 

Frankie pounds at the door to the beat of some rock song Jen can’t place. 

Jen opens the door with a groan and Frankie’s fist, mid knock, almost collides with Jen’s nose.

“Can I help you?” Jen asks, an acidic smile on her face. She’s a real estate bitch, after all. The fake smile practice comes with the territory. 

“You’re not Judy,” Frankie says, “Where’s Judy? I brought her some homemade nut butters. If she doesn’t want them, I can always go feed them to the homeless dogs. Skipper the Chihuahua would kill for these hazelnuts.” 

“Uh,” Jen pauses, “Judy’s in the shower. I think. So… Yeah, sure, I’ll take the nut butter. She’ll probably want it for the sourdough. The starter hasn’t gotten  _ yeasty  _ enough yet but, you know, it’s getting there.” 

“You can never have enough yeast.” Frankie says, like it’s some well known proverb. 

“I don’t think that—“

Frankie interrupts Jen, finger held up to shush her, “Nonsense. Anyway, my bones are  _ killing _ me, wanna go for a spin?” 

“I like to use my Peloton alone, but thank you.”

“Not that kind of spin. A walk. With me.”

“A walk? Where?”

“On Mars.” Frankie looks at Jen, eyebrows raised as if to say  _ Really?,  _ then opens the front door and motions excessively to the open air. “The beach. She’s calling me.” Frankie stares at the waves. A smile forms on her lips. 

“Your phone isn’t even ringing.”

Frankie ignores that. “Walk with me, Jen.” 

+

They’re a few blocks away from where they started. The waves lap at the sand, threatening Jen’s favorite pair of sandals. Jen feels her muscles tense at the idea of Frankie splashing her with cold ocean water. She’s hard to predict, that one.

Frankie leans down to pick up a small shell half buried in the sand. She brushes the sand off with her index finger as if petting the tiniest hamster. She holds it up to her ear and closes her eyes to focus. 

Jen crosses her arms and sighs.

“What are you doing?”

Frankie opens one eye, squinted, and replies, “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“I have no fuckin’ idea,” Jen mutters.

Frankie holds up a finger to shush Jen.

“Quiet. Let her speak.” 

They stand there in silence for a moment before Frankie exclaims, “Aha!” 

“What?”

Frankie gives the shell a kiss before returning it back to the sand. She covers the shell in sand as if tucking someone into bed. She looks back up at Jen. 

“Gail told me that she wants us to build a sandcastle. No, not a sandcastle. A sand yurt. With its own composting system. She’s a smart one, that Gail. Always looking out for the environment…” 

Jen stares at her, “And Gail is… the shell?” 

“She’s more than a shell. She’s a visionary.” 

“Okay…”

Jen doesn’t look convinced, so Frankie tries another tactic.

“I bet Judy would love to see a mini sand yurt… You know, yurts have come up a lot in our weekly sustainability talks. Might make her day.”

Jen doesn’t bat an eye at the mention of sustainability talks. Jen’s noticed that Judy has a habit of bringing up microplastics and landfills every Thursday night without fail. She talks about them on other days, of course, but Thursday night dinners are when Judy gets really riled up about recycling. The thought makes Jen smile.

Frankie gives Jen a smug knowing look and pokes her in the arm. 

“So, what do you say?” Frankie asks. 

“Fine. I’ll build the gogurt or whatever. Just don’t tell Judy that I did it for her.”

“My lips are sealed.” 

Frankie mimes zipping her mouth closed and Jen lets out a laugh.

+

They’re kneeling in the sand and their clothes are clearly speckled with it. Jen frowns at her dirtied pants but accepts her crab-like sand fate. 

“Frankie. This doesn’t look like anything,” Jen gestures to the ambiguous sandy structure they’ve created. 

“Not with that attitude, it doesn’t. Clearly, Jen, your chakras are unbalanced. We just need to carve out a door and then bam! Yurt built. Easy peasy lemon breezy.”

Jen sighs, “If you say so.”

Frankie uses her finger to carve out a hole in the rounded sand monstrosity and then nods at her work with pride. 

“Does Grace know where you are?” Jen asks, curiously.

“She’s familiar with my roaming. She has wind chimes she can ring if there’s an emergency. I always come back,” Frankie states with certainty. She looks off into the distance and smiles at the thought. 

Jen pauses to contemplate. She looks down at the sand and pushes it around with her hand nervously.

“How did you know?” Jen asks in a small voice. 

“How did I know about the wind chimes? Well, we had a wind chime meeting…”

Jen shakes her head, “No. How did you know… that you loved Grace in the… you know…” Jen makes a V with her fingers and sticks her tongue through them, “kind of way? The gay feelings thing?”

“Ah. There it is,” Frankie says, “I knew I got a vibe from you. Grace owes me twenty bucks.”

“Don’t tell me you were betting on me being gay.”

Frankie shrugs, feigning innocence. 

“I knew I loved Grace when… Well, there wasn’t one knowing moment, more of a series of moments… She sees more of me than anyone else I know and never needed binoculars to do it.”

“And you see her,” Jen adds.

“And I see her,” Frankie confirms. 

“Huh…”

Frankie stands up and offers a hand out to Jen, pulling her up.

“Come on, let’s take a picture of Yurtrude Gertrude for your Judy and get you home to her.”

“Please never say Yurtrude again.”

“Yurtrude!” Frankie whispers as she pulls out her phone and takes a picture of the sand yurt. 

Jen rolls her eyes.

+

Later that day, after Jen has taken a shower (sand is a sneaky bitch who loves crevices), she sits down on the couch next to Judy.

Judy nudges Jen playfully, “Where have you been all day? Did you bully any seagulls? Wait, let me guess. You punched a shark in the face.”

“I did not punch a shark in the face… yet. I was with Frankie.”

“With Frankie? What were you doing with Frankie?” Judy asks.

“Building a sand yurt. But honestly, it just looked like a fuckin’ tit with no nipple. I got so covered in sand I think I still might have sand in my ass crack,” Jen complains.

“If you need me to check, I’m here for you,” Judy offers, a little too seriously for Jen’s comfort.

Jen gulps.

“Check your own fucking butthole, Judy,” Jen fires back.

“I check yours, you check mine?” Judy jokes.

“Judy.”

“Jen.”

“I was going to show you the picture of the sand yurt before you so rudely interrupted with an offer to search my ass for sand,” Jen says as she pulls out her phone and clicks on the picture.

“Is that a sand community garden? Wow… Look at those sand yams!” Judy says.

“Yeah… I actually had a great time with Frankie. I mean, she’s weird, she’s into the same crystal nonsense as you and I still don’t understand that, but she made me think.”

Judy rests her head on Jen’s shoulder before replying, “Think about what?”

“Think about…” Jen stops herself. It’s too soon to say anything out loud. Jen’s still a little unsure about her feelings and talking about feelings has never been her strong suit. Maybe she should just change the subject.

Jen continues, “Never mind. It’s nothing, really. What are we making for dinner?”

Judy leaps up from the couch in an instant. 

“I need to prep the bell peppers! Stir fry!” Judy heads toward the kitchen to look for a cutting board. 

“What kind of bell peppers?” Jen asks from the couch.

“The red ones. Bite sized bits. Your favorite.”

Jen’s heart melts. Judy knows so much about her. Jen’s never even said that she doesn’t like green bell peppers, but Judy must have noticed that Jen avoids them. Judy is always noticing.

“Hey,” Jen calls out, “Your favorite brand of tofu was on sale this week. It’s on the second shelf to the left if you wanted to use that as the protein.” 

Judy pulls the tofu out of the fridge with a smile, “You read my mind, Jennifer.”

Jen groans, “Don’t call me that, Judith.”

Judy walks over to Jen and hugs her from behind the couch. Jen lets herself relax into Judy.

Judy leans in and whispers in Jen’s ear, “Can I call you Jenga?”

“Absolutely not. I fucking hate that game.”

“Yes, but… I love it just like I love you. Favorite game, favorite person. It works,” Judy says.

Jen grumbles, then considers it, “Will letting you call me Jenga bring you joy?”

“I’d be absolutely ecstatic, yes.”

“Then fine, go ahead, call me whatever you want. Just know that this is a Mario Kart household,” Jen says.

“Of course!”

“And I love you too,” Jen adds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> twitter: lilcodependy  
> tumblr: emotionalpanda
> 
> I'm open to prompts!  
> hope u have a great day, person reading this

**Author's Note:**

> im on tumblr @emotionalpanda and twitter @lilcodependy if you want to send prompts or cry about these shows with me!


End file.
